


Snow Day

by Sproings



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, M/M, Marshmallows, Pillow & Blanket Forts, Romantic Fluff, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-19
Updated: 2015-11-19
Packaged: 2018-05-02 08:40:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5241908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sproings/pseuds/Sproings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Steve looked out the window.  The whole neighborhood was twinkling with snow, bright and beautiful in the moonlight.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Maybe not as beautiful as the view beside him, but nothing really was.  Bucky, sound asleep, long lashes making shadows on his perfect cheekbones.  He was the best thing Steve had ever known.</i>
</p><p> </p><p>In which there is a blanket fort, and marshmallows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Day

The soft, white glow from the window could only mean one thing. 

Steve reached over from the bed and pulled back the curtain to confirm it. Yep. Snow. The whole neighborhood was twinkling with it, bright and beautiful in the moonlight.

Maybe not as beautiful as the view beside him, but nothing really was. Bucky, sound asleep, long lashes making shadows on his perfect cheekbones. He was the best thing Steve had ever known.

The lack of sunlight notwithstanding, it was morning. A Wednesday morning, in fact, which meant the sidewalks would need to be shoveled. He’d love to stay in bed with Bucky all morning (all day, all month, all of forever) but he liked to think of himself as a responsible person, so he rolled out of bed and shoved Bucky’s shoulder.

“Hey, wake up. We’ve got snow to shovel.”

Bucky was unpredictable in the mornings. He would either spring out of bed, or he would grumble and cover his head with something.

“Nooo,” Bucky said, and he burrowed down under the covers.

Steve sighed. “C’mon, it’s pretty out, and it won’t take long with both of us.”

Bucky mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like ‘shoveling sucks,’ but otherwise didn’t respond.

“The kids need the sidewalks to get to school. It’s not safe for them to walk in the snow.” It was a little manipulative, sure, but it was true, and it was the one thing almost guaranteed to get Bucky moving. 

Bucky muttered something else, ‘nuh-uh’, or maybe ‘don’t care’, and he pulled the pillow over his head.

Damn. 

Steve mentally revised his plans for the day, one of the benefits of working for himself. He wasn’t even going to try to get any design work done if Bucky was having one of his bad days. They didn’t happen very often, but Steve was determined that Bucky would never go through another one by himself.

“Okay, Buck. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Steve said, and he kissed the comforter over Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky shifted, uncovering his face just enough to say “Love you,” before he dropped the pillow back over it.

Steve rushed through getting dressed for outside, pulling on snowpants and his heavy coat over what might have been a pair of Bucky’s sweats. They were the first ones he found on the floor, and were definitely a little too small, but he wanted to get done and take care of Bucky, so he just went with it.

He yanked on his boots and his thickest gloves and went to the garage. Two snow shovels were hanging side-by-side on the pegs, one of those gentle reminders that he wasn’t alone anymore. That they were a pair. Steve and Bucky. Always, always.

He grabbed one of the shovels and went out through the side door, clearing off the little pathway between the garage and the fence first, and making sure the dryer vent wasn’t buried again. It was only a few inches of snow, so it wasn’t much work. 

Then he pushed open the gate, which was surprisingly easy. Usually a drift formed against it and made it hard to open, but . . .

The driveway was clear.

The sidewalk was clear.

Their neighbor’s sidewalks on either side were clear.

That son of a bitch.

Steve rushed back inside, hanging his shovel in its spot on the way, only this time he noticed a few snowflakes still clinging to the other shovel. Fucker.

He stomped inside. “Bucky, why --”

There was a blanket stretched across the back of the couch, up and over a pair of chairs from the kitchen. 

There was a tray holding two mugs and a plate full of doughnuts.

And there was Bucky, grinning and sauntering over to Steve, wearing nothing but boxers and a flannel shirt that hung open in the front. “Gee, done already?”

Steve tried to frown at him, and was hugely unsuccessful. “You know what a pain it is getting all these snow clothes on?”

“Nah. I just know how much fun it is to get them off you,” Bucky said, reaching for the zipper on Steve’s coat. Once he got it unzipped he said, “Oh. No shirt. Even more fun than I hoped.”

“I was in a hurry,” Steve muttered, and he knew he was blushing, but what the hell, Bucky liked when he blushed.

The coat fell to the floor, and Bucky slid the straps for the snow pants off Steve’s shoulders, with a lot more touching than was needed for the job. “Well, no more of that. No hurrying today. Today we go slow.”

He trailed his hands down Steve’s chest, one hand a little warmer than the other, and Steve couldn’t help the hitching little breath he took. Bucky was so fucking perfect, smirking and pressing in close so he could reach around and tug the snow pants down in the back, sliding both hands inside, only a pair of beat up sweatpants between their skin.

Steve stepped out of his boots and out of the snow pants, with Bucky’s hands still resting lightly on his ass. 

Bucky leaned back, looking Steve up and down but keeping his hands where they were. “Damn. Why do I ever let you wear real clothes?”

“No idea.” Steve slipped his hands inside Bucky’s flannel shirt and around to his back, enjoying every centimeter of skin along the way. He pressed soft kisses against Bucky’s lips, his jaw, that spot just under his ear that sometimes made him squirm. Mmm, success. Bucky arched his back and he squeezed, though only with one hand. (He had confessed one night that he was afraid of hurting Steve with the metal one, and Steve was more than willing to trust his judgement on that. Neither of them particularly wanted Steve’s ass to be bruised.) Steve pushed his luck and scraped his teeth over that same spot, and Bucky gasped, burying the sound in Steve’s shoulder.

“Slow,” Bucky said, maybe to himself as well as to Steve. He pulled back, breathing hard, and it was a real challenge not to move with him. Then he trailed one finger down Steve’s stomach and grabbed the drawstring of his sweatpants. He muttered, “C’mon. Blanket fort.”

“Huh?” Steve said, distracted by the lingering after effects of touching Bucky.

Bucky tugged on the drawstring, pulling Steve along and said, “I put a lot of work into this, and I expect you to appreciate it. Just get in the fucking blanket fort, Steve.” 

“Yeah, okay.” 

That probably would have been his response if Bucky had said, “Just bring me the fucking moon, Steve.” “Yeah, okay.” He’d ask Tony for help. 

He got into the blanket fort, which seemed to contain every single pillow they owned, along with several layers of blankets, and a tiny, battery operated disco light. Bucky ducked in after him, carefully setting down the tray with the mugs and the doughnuts.

“Shit. Forgot the marshmallows,” Bucky said, crawling back out. “Be right back. Do not drink that cocoa! Don’t touch anything until I get back.”

Steve waited until he heard a kitchen cabinet opening to yell back, “But I’m so thirsty from all the shoveling. Just one little sip . . .”

“Don’t you do it!”

“I dunno, Buck, there’s stuff in here that really needs to be touched.”

“Just wait one damned minute!”

“But Bucky --” Steve heard a thump on the top of the fort. He peeked out, didn’t see Bucky anywhere, and checked the blanket.

Something soft and small hit him in the back.

He turned around to see a marshmallow on the floor.

Another marshmallow came flying at his face, and he barely deflected it. “You’re asking for it, Barnes!”

“Oh yeah? You gonna give it to me, Rogers?” Another marshmallow flew in from the kitchen. 

“I think I just might.” Steve snatched a marshmallow off the floor and threw it back, blindly. 

Bucky snorted, and a marshmallow hit Steve in the chest. “Not like that, you won’t.”

Steve grabbed one of the pillows from the fort, held it in front of him, and charged into the kitchen.

Bucky giggled and threw an entire handful of marshmallows at Steve, who deflected most of them, then threw the pillow at Bucky. Bucky caught the pillow on instinct, and Steve used the half-second of distraction to grab him around the waist. 

He pulled him against his chest, which he could only do because Bucky came very willingly, and growled at him, “You’re mine, now.”

“I was already yours,” Bucky smirked, and kissed Steve on the nose.

Steve grinned at him, because it was impossible not to, and said, “Get in the fucking blanket fort, Bucky.”

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky said happily. He led the way, and Steve certainly enjoyed the view as Bucky crawled inside. Bucky knew it, too, if the little wiggle he threw in was any indication. So damned beautiful.

Steve climbed in after him, with that familiar, giddy feeling of helplessness that Bucky so often gave him. He just loved him completely. Simple as that.

They sat cross-legged in the blanket fort, sipped their cocoa and ate their doughnuts, pressing their knees together the whole time. They’d never had to discuss that. Both of them always drifted toward each other, always touched whenever they could, almost since the day they’d met (though their definition of ‘could’ had changed a lot since then).

Steve gathered their dishes on the tray and shoved it out of the fort, and they curled up under a blanket together. Bucky turned on an episode of Star Trek for them to ignore and snuggled in with his head on Steve’s chest. The little disco light made swirls on the roof of the fort.

“How did you plan all this?” Steve asked, trying to find the edge of Bucky’s shirt so he could get his hand inside it. He found the waistband of his boxers, instead, and tucked his fingers under it. 

“I didn’t. I heard the snow falling, and . . .” Bucky shrugged. “I wasn’t going to sleep, anyway.”

Steve hated that he couldn’t do anything about that.

Bucky rolled so he was half on top of Steve and looked into his eyes. “Hey. I used to stay up thinking about things I _couldn’t_ do. This is a big improvement.” 

He trailed kisses over Steve’s chest, moving slowly southward, and Steve let everything else fall away. It was a blanket fort, after all, that’s what they were for. And Bucky’s mouth was a damn miracle.

“Wait. These are my sweat pants,” Bucky said, now that he had a very close view of them. He also had a very close view of how interested Steve was in these proceedings. Very, very interested. “You don’t have permission to wear these.”

“Darn, that’s too bad. What are you gonna do about it?” 

Bucky tugged at the pants, Steve lifted himself up so they could slide off, and as they did, Bucky said, “Well, fuck, I didn’t know you were naked under there. This plan just gets better and better.”

“Told you I got dressed in a hurry,” Steve said.

“You did. Jesus.” Bucky looked up at Steve’s face and smiled wickedly. “You know what? You were right. There are some things in here that need to be touched.”

“Can I be one of them?” Steve said. And although there was no way he’d have ever done it with anyone else, he shimmied his hips in a way he hoped was enticing.

Bucky’s mouth dropped open, and he wasn’t looking at Steve’s face anymore. “Christ, you can be all of them.”

He bent and kissed Steve’s hipbone, and slid his hands up his thighs.

“No, not all,” Steve gasped. “You, too. I want -- You, too.” He knew that he hadn’t made any sense, knew that all his neediness was laid bare, knew that he could trust Bucky with it. 

Bucky grinned and crawled upward, still wearing way too many clothes. 

Steve kissed him, biting a little at his lower lip, and felt around for his boxers. He snapped the waistband. “Off. Take them off.”

Bucky laughed, the best laugh ever, and while he worked on shoving down his boxers, Steve tried to take the flannel shirt off of him, which made Bucky laugh some more. “I hope you never learn to be patient.”

“Never,” Steve agreed, shaking his head. He pushed Bucky’s shoulders, laying him back against the pillows, and climbed over him. 

Bucky arched up against him and Steve moaned without meaning to. The feel of Bucky’s legs wrapping around him, of Bucky’s cock sliding against his own, the smell of him, the way he moved, the sound of his breathy moans. Steve kissed him over and over, muttering “love you,” and “love you,” and “love you,” until they both fell apart.

Bucky’s hands swept over Steve’s back. He whispered, “Mine, Steve. You’ll always be mine.” 

“Yours,” Steve said, and he kissed him again, revelling in the truth of it. 

Bucky reached into the corner and came up with a handful of tissues. He gave a few to Steve and they both cleaned up a little

Steve rolled to the side and pulled a blanket over them, and Bucky curled around him, tangling their legs together and wrapping his arms around Steve’s waist. 

“Sorry if I messed up your plans,” Steve said, trailing his fingers along Bucky’s ribs.

Bucky snorted. “Since when do I care about plans? This is perfect.”

Steve kissed his hair. “ _You’re_ perfect.”

“Not a bit.”

“Every bit. C’mere, I’m gonna kiss them all.” He tugged lazily at Bucky’s waist.

Bucky shook his head, his hair tickling Steve’s chest. “Nope.”

“Okay, not right now,” Steve said, too utterly satisfied to consider it at the moment anyway. “Soon, though. Tonight. I’ll kiss all your bits tonight. Twice.”

Bucky chuckled. “Yeah, okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Many thinks to my beta readers, rayskeptic and [machine-dove.](http://archiveofourown.org/users/machine_dove/pseuds/machine_dove)


End file.
